Once
by CatherineofAragon
Summary: "Sometimes, when we get sick of fighting, we think of that time. Sunday and I put down our weapons, sit together in his garden and remember." All she ever wanted was to be something more. AU, maybe Saturday/Sunday?


**A/N: I'm not sure when this idea came to me, or how it started, but I thought that Saturday finally deserved her moment. This is total AU, where Saturday isn't a huge jerk and Sunday is amazingly out of character (but that's because I haven't read Lord Sunday in forever and I totally forgot how he spoke).**

**A few notes:  
><strong>  
><strong>First: my theory is that the Morrow Days had human names at one point, so I pulled some archaic names from another story and gave them to Saturday and Sunday. I'm considering a sequel or companion piece to this, so if I do, I'll give the other Trustees human names as well.<br>Sunday: Caerus (KAY-rus)  
>Saturday: Kaelin (KEY-lin)<strong>

**Second: This is in Saturday's point of view, and written as a first-person personal narrative with a memory fitted into the middle.**

Third: Saturday refers to herself as Sunday's "little sister", though she is older. This is because she thinks that Sunday sees himself as better than her, though, in reality, he looks upon her with respect.

Please enjoy!

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><p>Once, before Mother left, we were more than this. We lived and laughed together. Sometimes we fought, but we always worked things out, because we were a family. If we didn't have that, then what was there?<p>

Sometimes, when we get sick of fighting, we think of this time. Sunday and I put down our weapons, sit together in his garden and remember. He'll say, "Do you remember when…" And I'll say, "I couldn't forget. Monday always said…" He'll put his arm around me and I'll rest my head on his shoulder, and we'll sit like that, just… being.

When I look at my siblings, I feel a pang of guilt. My envy of my—surprisingly—younger brother made them this way. Envy of his just arrogance. His strength. He was always so much stronger… Things didn't used to be this way. I took care of my brothers and sisters, helping them to ensure their success. When our demesnes were delegated to us, I assisted them in selecting their Times of Day, drawing the lines of the caste system, while Sunday looked on as a constant reminder of my failure.

He was, to us, what the Old One could never be—a father. Not literally, mind you, but he was the patriarch of our little family, and we looked upon him as such. Our younger siblings were like his children, but I, I was his equal. I was accepted when I was with him, because the others were too scared of him to act otherwise. So I took that and ran with it, because I wasn't going to give him up anytime soon. I wanted him to be mine and no one else's, because he was all who held me dear.

Once, my brother told me that if I ever needed him, simply call and he would be there. Sometimes I called because I was hurt, or needed help; others, I simply wanted a friend. And he would come, he always would.

In the midst of a battle, I stopped. I couldn't take this fighting anymore, so I laid down my weapon and stopped. "Caerus!" I whispered, my voice carried away by the slight wind of the garden. As I has expected, I received no answer. After waiting for several minutes, I frowned and bent to pick up my staff. My hand had closed around the weapon when I felt his gloved fingers find mine. I looked up to meet Sunday's gaze. "You called me, Kaelin, did you not?" I hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, brother. I did."

Sunday wanted nothing more than to tend to his disciples. His garden and the creatures that inhabited it. Them, and me. I was just a possession to him, I knew. So whenever he pressed his cool lips to my forehead and told me I had done well, it took all of my strength not to cry. I knew then that more than anything, I wanted my brother to be proud of me. I wanted him to say that and to mean it, too. I was selfish to say that, I know, but I had spent too much time in the shadow of my army. He was too perfect, and I had to join him. I would become a celestial for him, no matter what it took.

It took me nearly a century of sparring with the one I loved to realize that what I was doing was wrong. He had become like this because of what I was trying to become, not what I had once been. So I dressed myself in white, a shadow of my former innocence, and told Dusk that he had control of the army. I could see the question in his eyes, but I ignored it and left.

My brother looked up from his novel when I knelt before him. "Saturday," he stated as matter-of-factly as possible. "You may rise, foolish girl." I stood, but bowed my head. He stood as well and moved to stand in front of me. "Saturday…" he murmured, pulling me to him. I tensed. I had not been expecting such a welcome. "I always told you you'd come back," he crowed triumphantly. "You denied it, but I knew all along." "I know," I whispered. "But you never said you'd accept it."

We sat again, looking out at the vast expanse that was the gardens. This time, though, was different, for today he held me as I cried. Hardly knowing the reason why, I sobbed, soaking his thin shirt with my tears. Sunday stayed with me, stroking my hair and telling me how much he loves his sister—after a while, I cried because that's all I would ever be to him.

Sunday and I stayed like this for the rest of the afternoon. His Dusk approached us at one point, but he quickly retreated with a look from his master. Finally, no more tears would come, so I simply looked up into his jade green eyes. "Why?" I asked bitterly. "Why do you care? I'm just your little sister, I have no real worth." My brother looked away, gazing at the dark sky. "I never said that." We didn't speak again.

We remember that we were human once.

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><p><strong>AN: I hope this does the series justice.**

**ありがとございます！**

**さゆり**


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